


The Cursed Archer

by ChamirianBels



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Curses, Dreams and Nightmares, M/M, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 22:01:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14882013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChamirianBels/pseuds/ChamirianBels
Summary: Arthur lives in the woods with his wolf friends. He meets a passing gunman visiting family and finds himself on an adventure. On this adventure, he discovers what the curse is he's been dealing with since birth, what problems it has caused over the centuries, and who he really is. As he's fighting his personified curse, he has to keep himself in check as he falls in love and needs to stop the battle heading towards the nation's king.  Will he be able to keep control of his body and find a happy ending?(Formerly known as "An English Bow and an American Gun." This is being edited before I upload each chapter. It's also being rewritten into its own novel, so it will be taken down once I've finished rewriting it.)





	1. Fated Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, only the story and plot.
> 
>  
> 
> Arthur has another average few days happen before he meets and interesting fellow who will change his life forever.

            The feeling of the string tensing under my fingers as I pull lets me know that I’m ready to fire.  The bow I made of wood, loaded with an arrow, readies as I take a stance.  I release the strong string and watch the arrow zip through the trees, landing on my target.  “Bullseye.”  I whisper to myself.

            I slowly walk over to the target that was set a couple of yards away and see that my final arrow indeed made the bullseye.  I take my handmade weapons and pull them out of the stack of hay that was abandoned and now used as a target.  “I keep getting better every day,”  I say to no one in particular.

            Once I have all my arrows I went to my camp where I live alone.  Hours later it becomes dark and I stare into the flames of the fire before me.

_Look at this pathetic boy._

            I turn my head, afraid that someone found my camp but saw no one near my boarders.

_I bet he won’t live very long, being alone and all._

            I heard some laughs and turned again.  “You’re wrong!”  I shout to the nothingness.

            _Look how weak he is,_ the voices continue, _he’s so small and has no muscles.  I wonder if he’ll be killed by the wolves._  

            “The wolves are my friends, actually,”  I state.

            They didn’t hear me, of course.  I wait for them to continue insulting me, but then I hear the voices change into scared screams.

 _H-he’s killed,_ one shouts, _take the bow and arrows away before he comes after us!  Run away from the monster!_   I flinch at the word “monster” and soon realize that these were memories from when I was young, ridiculed, and isolated.

            “Git,” I say to myself, “You shouldn’t even remember those things.”

_Arthur!_

            I turn to the sound of my name and pale as I had recognized the voice.  “Mum?”

_Arthur, honey, please stay away from the village, stat away.  I don’t want them to see you when you snap._

            She keeps begging me and I cover my ears.  “Shut up!”  I shout.

            Her voice ceases but turns into a scream.  I didn’t take my hands away; I keep them on my ears, trying to avoid the noise.  While in this state, I feel tears roll down my cheeks.  “Another memory,” I choke out, “but why did it have to be her?”

            I close my eyes and see the memory I heard, my mother dying at the hands of a mad man and me cowering in the corner, too afraid to help her.  I bite my lip and think of how much of a horrible son I was.  “Mum, I’m so sorry.”

            Unable to take the onslaught of memories, I put out my camp fire and crawl into my makeshift tent, resting on the ground and leaves I call my bed.  Pulling a thin sheet over me as a blanket, I try to sleep away the memories. Fortunately, I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

            Morning came, and I wake up to my friends, the wolves.  Striker, the pack leader who has come to like me over the years, nudges his wet nose into my face while placing a paw on my chest.  I weakly try to push him away, but he licks my hand and I groan.  “Ugh, why do you have to wake me up so early?”  I open my eyes and see him smiling, I bet he was laughing.  “You of all the wolves know that I’m grouchy when I’m forced to wake up.”  He snorts and gives me a look.  _You’re always grouchy,_ would’ve been his statement.

            I sigh and try to sit up.  “You don’t need to say anything, and I still understand you.”  I see a smile on his snout.  “Yes, yes, I know, now please, let me get up.”  He moves his paw and exits my tent to rejoin the other wolves.  _They’re more like my alarm,_ I think chuckling to myself.

            “All right so what are we going to do today?”  I ask as I get out of my little tent.  They look at me waiting for me to answer my own question.  “Well, I guess we can take money from the rich and give to the poor again.”  They all start barking and jumping.  _They really do like doing good deeds._ I shake my head even though I’m smiling. _They act like dogs instead of wolves._

            I grab my bow and arrows and start to walk.  “Let’s go boys.”  I say extending my arm out and gesturing the word “come.”  They follow me right on my heels as we walks through the forest to the nearest road. I pull my hood up to conceal my face as I hide behind a tree, waiting for any carriages or travels to pass.  Minutes tick by and Strikers ears twitched, which means he hears horses coming.  I pull my arrow up a bit and come around the tree when the horse whines.

            The wolves surround the horse and it rears up, making its rider fall; it almost dashes away, but soon stops when the wolves calm it down.  The boys don’t really harm horses and they seem to say that, to the horses they encounter, after the riders fall off.  “What the hell?”  I hear the rider say.

            I notice that the accent wasn’t British, but American, and scowl.  “Give me all the money you have,”  I say, putting the arrow up and aiming at him.

            He puts his hands up in surrender.  “Dude don’t shoot, I’m only going to visit my family.  I give them the money I earn since they’re poor.  Pleases let me through.”

            “Is that so?”  I look at him up and down.  His attire is that of a noble or high standing person. I instantly scoff at his little lie.  I look back up to see the blond’s blue eyes.  “Really, now, you should make up better lies when you’re in the noble attire.”

            He blinks and pales when I aim my arrow at him - specifically his hat, I’m not the kind to hurt those who are helpless…except for a certain Frenchman.

            “Dude, I’m telling you the truth!”  He shouts.  “My _family_ is poor, but _I’m_ almost loaded.  I mean, I am under the hand of the king in this region.  Please let me go. My brother will start to worry about me, and he needs the money that I have.”

            I look at the boy, trying not to believe him.  “Why is your family not being taken care of by the king?”

            “I’m told he doesn’t care much for Canadian’s,” he states.  “I call bull shit but my brother refuses to move to the main village because of the gossip.” He starts to relax a little as he talks but tenses as soon as I move.

            I walk over and kneel by him, bow still armed and ready.  “And you’re not a Canadian?”  He shakes his head and I sigh.  “Are you telling me the absolute truth?”  He nods vigorously.  I try suppressing a laugh as I get up to check the sack he has.  I feel how heavy it is and note it.  “All right,” I say, turning back to the blonde who is on his feet now, “when you come back through here you’ll see me.  Stop and talk with me.”  With that I call the dogs over and we disguise ourselves back into the forest.

            Of course I just went behind a tree to watch him.  “Weird, guy,” I hear him say, “but for him to try and give to the poor, I can respect that.”  He pauses for a few minutes.  “Damn it Mattie’s going to get even more worried when I tell him what happened; I guess I’ll have to tell a small fib… Again.”  He soon hops onto his saddle and rides off to the village up the road.

            I’m surprised hearing that he would tell a lie to his family but guess that’s how people can be in this age. Wondering about the man I just let go through my fingers, I sit next to the tree and await his return.


	2. Chatting at Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred finally comes back and the two chat.

            Hours pass since the encounter and I was still wait for him.  I sort of start thinking that he possibly stayed overnight just to keep his family feeling better, but for some reason I didn’t believe that. 

            Striker had stayed by my side to keep me warm and the others went back to my camp.  We were waiting together, and I bet he could tell I was becoming impatient.  “Damn that bloody brat,” I say out loud, “he’s going to get a lot of lecturing when I see him.”  The dog snorts.  “What?  It’s rude to make someone wait, especially when it’s dark and cold out.”  I saw his eyes roll and he lays his head on his paws.  “Don’t roll your eyes at me, you know it’s true.  I don’t make you guys wait for me, do I?  I’m too much of a gentleman to make people wait.”  He snorts again.  “Okay, except that Francis bastard; I just don’t like him.”

            I had come across the French bastard while he and another blond man were walking to the village.  He happened to see me and instantly came over to make conversation; of course, being the gentleman I am, I had kindly (kicked) asked him to (go fuck himself) leave me alone.  There was just this perverted air around him that I didn’t want to be near.  My point was proven when he had…groped me on the arse. I had punched him for doing that.  I felt bad for the other man who was forced to be around the bloody git, but he seemed to be fond of him. Weird man.

            I’m suddenly knocked out of my thoughts when someone nudges me.  At first I think it was Striker, but soon see the blond from earlier.  “Hey,” he says with a bright, annoying smile. “I came like you asked.”

            I stand up and brush the dirt off myself.  “So you did.”

            I quickly go to the sack on his horse and feel the weight of it.  “If you’re checking to see if I did keep to the truth then it’d be better for you to meet a witness.”

            I give him a scowl and he shrugs.  “I’m not going into to town.”

            He looks puzzled.  “Why not?”

            I glance away from him.  “I-I just don’t want to.”

            He gazes at me. I tense, thinking he wants to know more and pry, but he didn’t say anything about it.  “So,” he starts, “since it’s so late out can I stay with you?”

            “Absolutely not,”  I say, walking to the tree I was laying on earlier to grab my stuff.

            “Why?  It’s rude to ask to talk to someone then tell them they can’t stay at their house.”

            “I don’t have a house,”  I state.  He looks confused, and I sigh.  “I live in a tent, always have.”  I shrug and start walking, hoping that he wouldn’t follow.  I was wrong.

            “Why’s that?”  He asks, walking next to me.  I see his horse and my wolf walking behind us and sigh.

            “Why should I even share stuff with a bloody wanker like you?”  I sort of snap at him.

            “Because I’m curious and since you were rude to me earlier in the day, I think you should give me something.”

            He’s serious, but I just scowl at him.  “I’ve never shared an ounce of my life to anyone and I’m not going to start now.”

            He pouts.  “But you sort of did when you told me that you lived in a tent.”

            I glower even more.  “Just go away you prat!”

            “No,”  he says.

            Groaning, I call for my friend’s help. “Striker!”  The wolf instantly starts growling and the blond tenses but hold his ground.

            “He won’t do anything,” he states. “I saw how the wolves didn’t attack my horse even though they could’ve brought her down easily.”  He looks at the wolf and smiles; Striker stops growling and starts to pant like an original dog.  “Please just let me stay for one night and I won’t bother you again.”

            With that as a compromise, I instantly accept.  “Just for one night!  And you better not bother me again.”  He gets all happy and pats the wolf’s head.

            We get to my camp and he whistles.  “Wow,” he says, “it’s just you?”

            I nod.  “Always has been and I like it that way.”  An obvious lie, but I ignore it.

            His face suddenly slumps into a frown.  “At least you have the wolves’, right?”

            “They don’t stay in the camp that long.”  And right on cue Striker leaves with the other wolves.  “They always leave when they know I’m going to be fine.  That and they leave at the same time every day, sometime before dark.”

            “But it’s dark out right now.”

            “Yes well the boys couldn’t leave without their leader who was right next to me as I was waiting for you.”  I’m trying to keep myself in check as the guy continues to pester me.

            He blinks.  “How long were you waiting for me?”  I look at him and blush instantly as I turn my head.  “When I saw you sitting near the tree, it looked like you were cold.”

            “I wasn’t cold,” it would be embarrassing if he knew I was waiting all day for him, “I didn’t wait long.”  I’m thankful for the wolves’ to be gone because Striker would’ve snorted right then.  “I had gotten there a couple of minutes before you.”

            “Liar.”  I look up at him and was about to protest.  “I know that you were there longer.”  Confusion sweeps over me. How could he know? “You don’t know it, but I went on a walk through the woods with my brother and his…friend.” I notice his hesitation before the word “friend” and wonder who this friend was. “We happened to take a walk near you, well near enough for me to see you at a distance.”  I flush in embarrassment again.  “I also had gotten some information on you.”

            “What?”  That statement kind of surprises me. Not many people want to know about me.

            “Well, I-I was curious to who I had met on the road.” A blush appears on his cheeks as he talks. “I asked around and found out that my brother and his friend knew you.  I asked, and they told me that your name was Arthur something-or-other-”

            “Kirkland.  My name’s Arthur Kirkland.”  I say with irritation. At the same time I’m in awe that he did research on me.

            He smiles.  “You just told me something else about you.”  I blush and look away, scolding myself.  “Anyway,” he continues, “they had said you were an outlaw, but they don’t believe that and neither do I, and that you’ve isolated yourself from the town-”

            I scoff.  “I’ve isolated myself?”  He’s taken aback as I speak.  “Oh I’m sorry, please, do go on.”  I wave my hand for him to continue, but he didn’t speak.  “I bet you’re wondering why I said that.”  He gives a slight nod.  “Well, first off, the town’s people were the ones who isolated me.  I was only a little boy and they threw me out; they were afraid I would kill them like I did the others.”  As soon as I confess my crime, the building anger disappears into despair. Drat, did I just chase away another person without meaning to?

            “Y-you’ve killed before?”  He stutters more out of shock than out of fear.  “Why?”  I shut my lips and bite my tongue.  I just shared the most awful thing to share, and he’s with the king no less. Am I trying to have myself imprisoned?  He waits for me to answer then decides to change the subject.  “I’m Alfred.  Alfred Jones.”  I didn’t say anything, and he sighs.  “I’m of the Kings guard; they only want me because of my inhumane strength though I have skills with the gun, and I would leave but my family needs the money.”

            “You say your family, but it’s just your brother isn’t it?”  He looks at me and nods with a small smile on his face.  “Can you tell me about him?  And his friend, too?”  I was really interested in who this boy was related to, and to think how lucky they are to have such a good brother.  My brothers though…

            He smiles even more.  “My brother is named Matthew, he looks like me, but he has this little strand of hair that curls out in a strange way.”

            “Sort of how you have a thick piece of hair that’s always sticking up?”  I ask, eyeing his one strand of hair.

            “Yeah, well, his is longer, but anyway, he’s shy and always has a bear with him.  It’s funny to see him talk with it like it’s really alive.  Then his friend…” he stops for a second and scowls a bit, “his friend is a French pervert who doesn’t know when to stop groping people’s asses.”

            I chuckle a bit but then realize he said French.  “Are talking about Francis?”

            His eyes go wide.  “Yeah I am but how…”

            He stops when he notices that I’m fuming with anger.  “That bastard,” I say, “he’s your brother’s friend; how I pity him to be with that _thing_ all the time.”

            “Well,” I cease giving off the aura of killing and glance at him, “he may be a pervert and all, but he makes my brother happy and that’s all I want.”

            I soften up a bit and nod.  “Matt’s lucky to have a brother like you.”

            He sits straight at my comment with a cocky smile.  “He is, isn’t he?”  I scowl at his inflating ego but soon frown as he asks a question I dare not answer.  “What about your family?”

            I gaze into the fire and try not to look at him, my eyes glazing over as I think of my family.  Suddenly, I force out a yawn and stretch my arms out.  “Man I’m tired.  I guess I’ll get to bed then.”  I get into my tent and fall onto my bed with a small grunt.  Giving myself some hope, I think he will let me sleep on my own, but then I hear him come in the tent and lay down next to me.  “What are you doing, you bloody git?”

            “Well I didn’t want to sleep out there and I thought you wouldn’t mind.” 

            A blush I will deny is there appears on my face. Even though I was really uncomfortable, with this predicament, I somehow find a way to sleep.

            The next morning I wake up to something I didn’t want to wake up to. I was nice and warm in my bed and I’m not used to that, so I reluctantly open my eyes to see the cause.  I try to move but can’t as I realize his arms are around me.  I gaze up, instantly regretting the action; his face is so close to mine.  I feel my face heat up from this scene I’m in.  I try remaining calm but can’t when he unconsciously moves; now I can feel his breath cascade over my lips.


End file.
